The French Connection
by greengirl82
Summary: While passing the time at the BAU, the team hears a story...
1. The Beginning

**The French Connection**

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not now and never will be.

Summary: While passing the time at the BAU, the team hears a story...

A/N: This was a little something that came to me, not to be taken all too seriously. Just go with it and I hope you all enjoy.

Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.

* * *

"Everything in life is connected somehow. You may have to dig deep to find it but it's there." Author Unknown

* * *

Dave walked into the break room bypassing the two arguing men as he maneuvered his way over to the smaller table next to the break table.

"No, I'm sorry there is no possible way that weapons that the storm troopers used in the original Star Wars could ever be considered classics," Reid began, "After all they are essentially Sterling L2A3 9mm SMG."

"What is it with you boys and your toys?" Garcia muttered, perplexed as she looked up from the break table, "What's that?"

"Basically military sub machine guns developed in the late '40s in the UK and adopted by the British and Canadian Armies in the 1950s," Dave explained looking up from his paper, "Now if you don't mind I need to check my sports page."

Hotch kept his eyes trained on the paper work before him, while Morgan and Reid joined in on the card game continuing their conversation.

Garcia sighed in boredom watching her two favorite girls slapping cards down on the table.

"Straight, read 'em and weep," JJ grinned, setting her cards down before reaching forward to collect her winnings.

"Uh uh. Not so fast, blondie," the brunette smirked at the scowl on the younger woman's face, she set her own deck down, "Full house. Sevens over jacks."

JJ scoffed shoving the cards down at Emily, who then casually shuffled them together, "Still say there's a whole other side of you."

"Girl, I've got moves no one's ever seen," she teased, turning to the unusually silent woman beside her, "What about you, PG? You think I'm a card shark?"

"Huh?" she said, sipping her iced tea, "Oh, yeah deal me in."

The two female agents exchanged puzzled looks, "Uh, Garcia? Are you all right?"

"Hmm?" she flinched when a pair of short finger nails snapped in front of her face, "Oh, sorry. My bad."

"Garcia?" Emily softly said, "What's wrong?"

"Uh, nothing" she quickly answered, "Just thinking."

"That can't be good," Morgan teased, earning a glare from JJ.

"About?" Emily asked, passing a card over to the silent in concentration Reid, "Hey, are you and Kevin still on the outs?"

"Not really," she shrugged, "We're just taking it one day at a time, you know?" trying to divert the attention off herself, "How about you, Gumdrop? Any European princes knocking down your door?"

At that question Dave looked up from the sports page of the newspaper, his eyes scanning over to the tense Hotch. The older man internally rolled his eyes, hiding the smirk when he noticed Hotch's gaze locked on to their recently returned agent.

"Oh yeah, but they were all toads," she chuckled softly, "Anyway why are we having this heart to heart about me when we're suppose to have fun?"

"Fun? At the BAU?" Garcia sputtered, turning to JJ, "Did she just say _'fun'_?"

"She said _'fun'_," JJ reiterated with a sigh, "Look, if we're going to play, then lets play, otherwise I'm going to have to go back to my off..."

Garcia covered the blonde's mouth with her hands, "You do NOT finish that sentence Jennifer Jareau LaMontagne, otherwise I will use my fairy dust on you and turn you into Tinkerbell."

"Someone's feisty," Morgan teased, flinching when he felt a boot connect to his shin, "You did _not_ just kick me."

"I think she did," Emily chuckled, her attention going back to their friends, "Look PG, as much fun as it is watching you manhandle JJ... Can you let her go?"

"Fine," the blonde muttered.

JJ raised a perplexed eyebrow but nodded, allowing Garcia to remove her hand which JJ flinched, "Please lay off the pork rinds, Garcia."

Garcia sniffed her hand, shrugging, "Can't make promises. So... what's new ladies?"

"Uh uh," Emily said, stopping the bubbly woman from changing the subject, "You are not going to do THAT. Now out with it."

"Out with what?" she coyly asked, toying with a potato chip in her hand.

"Spill Garcia or I will cut off the hair of every single troll doll you own," JJ threatened her friend, "Including the Wizard troll."

"No," the blonde gasped, "Not my Wizard..."

"Spill it," Emily pondered what had her friend so distracted.

"I overheard some of the guys," she started, not noticing that Hotch, Morgan and Reid looked up at that.

"Overheard them about what?" JJ rolled her eyes, the idea that the men of the BAU had to be something annoying but good.

"Talking about their first times," Garcia leaned in to whisper, "You know, 'first times'."

Morgan scoffed but Dave's eyebrow shot up at that turning his attention on to his team leader who was not impressed by this conversation but held his tongue as he was going over case notes.

"Ugh," JJ scoffed, turning to her brunette friend.

"And this is what has you acting all un-Garcia like?" Emily asked confused, "Big deal, it's just sex."

"Really," Morgan added, stealing the deck of cards from Emily.

"Ugh, not that 'first' time," Garcia sighed, "The first kill."

"Huh?" JJ scrunched up her nose in revolted confusion but Emily and Morgan's interest piqued, while Dave abandoned the conversation to return to his newspaper.

"Oh," the brunette pursed her lip, "Well that's a healthy conversation."

"I know," the technical analyst hissed, "Imagine if Strauss or the Bureau shrink heard THAT."

"This is a fun topic," Hotch muttered over his notes, "How about we table this conversation before we all end up in front of the subcommittee again?"

The brunette smirked, "Well you know what that means?"

"What?" Reid queried.

"Oh, you mean..." Garcia asked, her spirits lifting at the possibilities before her looking over at her blonde friend, "Ooh."

"What?" Reid repeated while Hotch turned his eyes on to Dave who raised an eyebrow.

"Uh ladies? I don't know what it is," Hotch began his eyes traveling to the three women on his team, "Or maybe I'm a little slow but what are you two planning?"

Emily watched as Garcia gave their boss an innocent look, "Us? Planning something? Quel blasphème."

"Huh?" Morgan rolled her eyes, "Out with it, baby girl."

Dave smirked, he knew where this was going as he recognized the look on the two women's faces while JJ kept her eyes trained on the coffee cup in her hand.

"Garcia," Hotch set his pen down, "I'm not going to ask you again."

"Then don't," the blonde quipped, noticing her two female friends wince at that, "What?"

"Glad to see that you're in a better mood mama," Morgan said, returning to his cards, "But unless you want a spanking," he titled his head giving her a smirked look, "I suggest you move this conversation into another direction."

"Way to kill my good mood," Garcia muttered, "I. Am. Bored."

"That's it," Dave threw down his paper with a sigh, "Everyone gather around the table."

"What?" Hotch raised his eyebrow, "Dave?"

"Aaron don't make me tell you again," Dave barked out, "Since none of you are going to let me read the sports page in peace, we're going to have to find another way to pass the time, other than drinking."

"I'd kill for a drink," Morgan muttered.

"Same here," Emily and Garcia murmured but where quickly silenced with a look.

"Children sit," Dave commanded one more time, watching as Morgan scooted over for Hotch to sit between him and Emily, "Good, now listen."

Dave reached across the small table wrenching the small book from Reid's hands, "Hey!"

A piercing stare stopped the younger agent from making any other protests, "Now since no one is happy with their current free time here at the BAU, I'm going to tell you all a little story."

"Story?" Hotch questioned, "Look Rossi, there are more important things I could be doing right now..."

"Then why aren't you?" Dave quipped, noting the uncomfortable look that fell on his friend. He knew why Hotch was down here with the entire team, and not up in his office hunched over mountains of backed up case files. His eyes fell to the bored brunette beside him, her. Emily Prentiss was the reason Hotch chose to be here at that moment.

"Well?" Emily asked, "Are you just going to sit there or are you going to tell this story?"

"Yeah," Garcia chimed in, "Is it a scary one? Ooh, is it a crime fic from a future Rossi novel?"

Dave snorted at that, while JJ raised an eyebrow, "Nothing too gory, I have enough problems sleeping at night from what we do and a four year old."

"Very well," Dave nodded, "Now you all sit back and hear a little story I've made up about a crime investigated by a character I've created. A new series, if you will."

"What?" Hotch asked, he knew his longtime friend and sometime published author loved to write crime stories but they were usually fact based, true crimes not works of fiction.

"Just listen," Dave sighed, "Without going into specifics of the story, there once was a case involving a lone agent."

"What kind of case?" Garcia asked, zipping her lip at the look he sent her way.

"A highly classified one involving a gallery, a group of suspects and lone agent," Dave started, "Now this type of case wouldn't typically fall into the agent's lap unless it was a serial. But when the agent stumbled across this crime, it was in their nature to investigate."

"How come?" Garcia asked, looking to each agent on her team, "What, I'm not a super agent, I'd like to know these things."

Dave pinched the bridge of his nose, "Save all commentary for after the story, please?"

"Zipping lip," she ran her fingers across her lips then gave the older man a thumbs up.

"As I was saying," Dave continued, "While checking in at the hotel for a convention in D.C. the mayor called in one of the best agents in the Bureau."

"What's his name?" Reid asked.

"Raymond Stone," Dave sighed.

"Stone?" Reid furrowed his eyebrows, "Did you base him on anybody?"

"Well..." Dave started.

"Did you know that there _was _a Commander Raymond Stone who served as a U.S. Naval Officer and Governor of Guam..." Reid started

"No I didn't know _that_," Dave interjected, "What did I tell you? This is a fictitious character. Don't interrupt me, you do not interrupt my story..."

Reid stammered, "I'm sorry."

"I don't care what you say when I'm finish but if you want to hear this then you do not attract attention away from the story." Dave said, giving each stunned member of his team a hard look, "Now may I finish?"

"Go right ahead," Garcia said, too shocked to say anything else.

"Now listen to this, will you?" he resumed his story, "Stone had just arrived on the spot and he was supposed to be headed to the Washington Convention Center for his convention when he decided to make a pit stop at his hotel."

"Which one..." Reid started fidgeting with the sharp look Dave once again gave him, "Sorry."

Morgan placed a protective hand on his younger friend, "Just let the man tell his story so we can go."

"All right before anyone else interrupts me; go grab a drink, something to munch on because if I'm interrupted again things won't be pretty."

"You're just telling us this now?" JJ muttered to her two female companions both women snickering but maintained a straight face.

Once the group had settled down now in the conference room, away from any distraction in the break room Dave took a seat at the head of the circular table.

"Now what I have to say won't be interrupted again, whatsoever," he said, turning his gaze on to the two most vocal members of the team.

"What?" Garcia asked unapologetic, "I _said _I was sorry. Once it's out there I don't have to repeat it again until my next blooper. No take backs."

The group stared at the woman as though she had two heads before Hotch broke the silence, "Go on, Rossi."

"As I was saying," he continued tersely giving everyone a glared warning before leaning in.

* * *

"The world is a giant puzzle that hasn't been put together yet, and were trying to find the other piece of this puzzle that goes with us" Author Unknown

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

No I didn't cut myself off, the next chapter will contain the story from the characters point of view. I know this one seems a lot different then my usual stories but bare with me, it's new. And it will be a mini epic so each chapter will not be a different story at all. *Gasps* I know, how rare of me.

Well I did my part, you do yours with a review.


	2. On With The Show

**The French Connection**

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Not that I would claim otherwise.

Summary: While passing the time at the BAU, the team hears a story...

A/N: Thanks a lot to everyone who reviewed, favorited and follows this story, I honestly didn't think it was good but you all seem to like it, so here we go.

Here's chapter two. I'm not sure how long this will be, so bare with me on this. Enjoy.

Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.

* * *

"History will be kind to me for I intend to write it." Winston Churchill

* * *

As Stone walked across the open space of the Renaissance hotel, he paused as he reached the check in bumping into a young man.

"Oh, so... so... sorry," the younger man stammered out as he made his way over to the elevator.

"It's quite all right," Stone murmured before moving to the front of the line.

"May I help you?" the male concierge asked.

"Reservation for Stone," he said, his attention briefly distracted by a leggy blonde brushing pass him as she made her way to the dining room.

"Ah, here you go," the concierge said, interrupted his lustful gaze, "Sir?"

Stone slid his hand into his back pocket, pausing as he felt around for his wallet than checking his other pocket, "Sorry."

As the passed the card to the younger man, the dark-haired man sought out the blonde and was briefly disappointed that she was no longer visible to his line of sight.

"Here you go Mister... oh, Agent Stone," the concierge corrected himself, "Is there something the hotel needs to be aware of, sir?"

Sliding his hand carefully across the marbled counter, Stone pocketed his hotel key, "No."

"Very well, sir," the man cooly retorted before passing along a copy of his receipt, "Bell boy."

After situating himself into his room, Raymond looked out the window at the twinkling night sky, marveling at the sight. It had been awhile since he had time for himself, even the slightest vacation and he wanted to take the few brief minutes that allowed him to soak in the ambiance, before checking his watch, noting that he had to head to the Convention Center.

As he walked out of his room towards the elevator, he was distracted by the sound of an angry man berating the young bell boy who looked like he was going to pee his pants. Shaking his head, Stone raised his eyebrow at that but pressed the down button turning his head while the elevator doors closed.

Once he made it into the safe confines of the convention center, he quickly made his way over to the podium set up, keeping his eyes trained on the legal pad on the table.

"Don't you ever tell me that again!" he heard the echoing loud voice of a young woman screaming in to the house phone by the stage, "Because I'm tired of jealous psychos that's why."

As he turned his attention to the growing crowd of fellow visiting agents. Taking a seat at a round table to the side of the room, he took stock in the arrivals noting the conventioneers each finding their own assigned seats while Stone leaned back trying to relax in the large room.

"Hey Lucas," a man called out, "How's the mid-west treating you?"

"Not as well as San Francisco's treating you, huh?" Lucas called back, "Did you ever get in touch with McClain?"

"Nah, Fat Bastard's avoiding me like the plague," the second man called out, "Let's do drinks after this thing is over?"

"Sure thing," Lucas agreed, taking a seat close enough to Stone's table to hear the man's sarcastically muttering, "That'll be a freaking blast."

The agent sighed, taking a chanced glance at his watch, "How long is this going to go on?"

"You say something, sir?" a perky woman asked turning in her seat.

"No, no dear," Stone waved it off, embarrassed that he drew attention to himself. He was by no means a shy man, but during his working hours he liked to keep a professional decorum, "Sorry, miss...?"

"Laura," she extended her hand, "Laura Anderson."

"Laura," Stone greeted, "Do you know when these things start?"

He took in the younger woman's appearance. Like most of the other people here, he was older than everyone; seniority had that wherever he went but always went out of his way to be open to anyone who approached him.

"Oh, I have no idea," she admitted, turning in her chair, "This is my first time here."

"You're a new agent?" he questioned her.

"Me? An agent?" she chuckled, covering her hand with her mouth, "Nope, I'm a journalist for the D.C. Press. My boss was supposed to be here but she trip and broke her ankle over her daughter's wheelie shoes."

"Wheelie shoes?" Stone pondered, shrugging, "Oh."

"Yeah," she said, "So, you haven't been here before either?"

"No, I actively avoid these things," he admitted hearing the woman chuckle at that.

Both paused when they saw man walk across the podium testing the microphone before returning to the back of the stage.

"So how come you were roped in if you had successfully avoided these things?" she asked, picking up her iPad, "You don't mind if I take notes do you?"

"With that thing?" Stone asked, looking at Laura's iPad, "Whatever happened to the good old days of pen and paper?"

"Long gone, I'm afraid," she teased, "So you're sure?"

Nodding the pair talked for a while until a vibrating came from the older man's coat pocket, "Sorry."

"No, please it's ok," she waved it off, getting up from her seat walking to the coffee.

"Stone," he answered, mentally rolling his eyes at the sound of his bosses shrilling tone, "And how are you this evening?"

Standing up, Stone moved across the side of the room. Giving Laura passing nod before leaving the large convention room.

"I understand," he agreed, "Of course. I'll go back there now."

Hanging up, he pocketed his cell phone, shaking his head in wonderment if he'd ever catch a break. It wasn't as though he wanted to not do his job, but he'd rather hurry up with his work.

Stone entered the lobby of his hotel, pausing as he searched his pocket for his key card, once he was satisfied that it was in place, he was stopped by a man only a few years younger than him.

"Excuse me, Agent Stone?" the man asked.

"Yes?"

"Detective Jesse Reese," he flashed his badge, "D.C. police."

"How may I help you, detective?" he asked, both men moving through the lobby towards the elevator.

"We just spoke with your Section Chief," the officer started, "We need your help on a case that just popped up in our district."

The agent nodded for the younger man to continue, "A murder-homicide just fell into our lap. We believe our suspect might target a gallery opening."

"And my Section Chief signed off on this?" Stone asked, as the two men moved out-of-the-way of the opening elevator, "My unit only handles high risked cases. What can you tell me about your UnSub?"

"He murdered a receptionist at a gallery opening," Reese paused, taking a deep breath, "The poor girl was eviscerated and the Mayor thought he'd ask. So..."

Both men entered the elevator, descending on to the agent's floor.

"Let me grab a few things before we check out the last crime scene," he answered, the two men walking to the older man's hotel room.

A loud crash startled the dark-haired man who narrowed his eyes on the cause of disruption.

"Oops, my bad?" Garcia apologetically squeaked out, her shoulders rising.

"Must you interrupt my story?" Dave asked, his fingers thrumming on the round table. One thing that everyone could see clearly was that the man was not amused.

"I said, _'my bad'_," the technical analyst reiterated, "How else should I say it?"

Tilting his head to the side, he could tell without even looking that every other person in the room, Reid included, knew that this was a moment to test ones will.

"How about you sit down and let me finish?" he offered, he didn't want to lose his patients, especially with a computer whiz who could make his millions disappear before he even blinked.

"Yeah, cause this story is moving along so well," Emily muttered to the blonde agent beside her.

"Getting back to the story..." Dave enunciated, ignoring the eye roll from the senior agents on his team.

While Stone kneeled down next to the know contained crime scene examining what little evidence was left, Reese had leaned back taking in the scene.

"You see anything?" the younger man asked the agent.

"The UnSub took great pride at containing the scene," Stone said, getting on one knee as he stood up, "He had to make sure that there was nothing left that could be traced back to him."

"So we're not thinking of a garden variety psycho," Reese commented, "Someone smart, organized and..."

"Methodical," Stone added, "Leaving this woman's body here at the gallery, it shows that he had her on display."

Reese paused, "You mean like he had no regard for her human life?"

"Exactly," Stone agreed, "This woman... what was her name again?"

"Turner, Michelle Turner," Reese replied, folding his arms across his chest, "Do you think the killer will strike again at the new opening?"

"Possible," Stone said, giving the woman's last destination spot a sad look, "We need to go back over the evidence at your precinct."

"Actually they're sending everything over to your hotel room," Reese informed the agent, "The faster we get through, the faster we catch the killer. If that's alright with you."

"Anyway works with me," Stone commented, the two men heading back to parking lot.

As they piled over the paper work in his room, Stone felt the sharpness of sitting too long begin to take effect. Standing up, he picked up the file silently reading to himself when a thought occurred to him.

"Reese?" he called out, turning to the younger officer, "How long was it from when the body was found that the paintings had been reported missing?"

"Um," Reese looked down at the file before him, "Not long, within a half hour... why?"

"Because," he explained, "If this were a pro job then it would've been done the instant the body hit the ground, but since Michelle Turner had some time in lividity then..."

"The doer was still in the gallery and they took the painting while everyone was focused on the body," Reese finalized.

"Exactly," Stone theorized, "Because it's fairly obvious that there's more than one UnSub. It's a pack effort."

Reese palmed his chin, stroking in it as he pondered, "Are we sure about this?"

"Fairly certain," the older man paused, something picking at the back of his brain but he couldn't put his finger on it, "Here's what we'll do."

While the two men went over their plan to capture the UnSub and their possible partners, a shadowy figure stood off to the side watching the agent and the detective.

"So that's how it's going to be?" they whispered to themselves.

The next afternoon, Stone and Reese were speaking quietly with the gallery security when something caught the agent's attention.

"You all right, man?" Reese asked watching the other man quietly move away from the small group to the other side of the gallery.

The detective kept his eyes trained on the agent, watching as he maneuvered himself to a young woman. Reese rolled his eyes as he watched Stone speak quietly to a woman.

"Are you kidding me?" he murmured to himself.

"This is Tricia Goodwin with KATZ News," a news reporter started, "We're here live at the Scott Galleries ready for the tonight's unveiling of the latest Cole exhibit," as the female reporter turned sideways allowing the camera crew to take in the backdrop, "Despite the high tension with the recent murder of Michelle Turner and no leads as to who the killer is, the police and FBI assure the public that they have we have nothing to worry about."

Reese shut his eyes at that, taking a deep breath he focused back on the Stone and the woman. The younger man raised an eyebrow, wondering how the man could just switch off from investigating a murder to picking up a woman in an art gallery...

"And there it is," Stone said, holding up a scrap of paper.

"What, you got her number?" Reese asked, trying to hide the irritation in his tone.

"Excuse me?" the agent flabbergasted, "I, what?"

"Got the girl's home number," the younger man reiterated.

"No," Stone adamantly denied, passing the paper to the detective, "This in case you can't read, my good man, is the personal line that will keep us in contact with Kimberly Corman."

"Who?" Reese asked.

"Kimberly was, _is_, one of the best undercover agents I have ever met in my tenor at the Bureau," the agent told him, "Despite her rookie status, she has come proven herself on some very hard cases."

"Good for her," Reese told him, "So what will happen?"

"Come here," the man said, leading him away from the crowd.

Once the gala showing proceeded underway Stone, Reese and a few non-uniformed officers mingled in with the guests, trying their best to blend in. But in Stone's opinion it was like sticking a screen door on a submarine, it just mesh well.

While Stone kept his eyes on Kimberly interacting with several art patrons, he saw Laura and smiled. The pleasant woman was talking with a younger man, one that Stone thought was he recognized but he didn't know where from.

"Everything all right?" Reese asked.

As the agent slowly did a one-eighty, scanning the room he frowned. Something was wrong, that much he knew, but what was it?

While Reese looked on, Stone slowly made his way to the back of the gallery nearly mowing down a beautiful brunette.

"Sorry," he murmured, trying to move pass the beautiful woman who sent him a warm smile as she maneuvered her way around him.

"That's quite all right," she replied before slipping into the massive crowd.

When Stone finally finagled his way to the backroom, the lights quickly went out and the last thing he felt was a sharp blow to the back of his head as he fell to the floor.

* * *

Marcus Tullius Cicero said, "History is the witness that testifies to the passing of time; it illumines reality, vitalizes memory, provides guidance in daily life, and brings us tidings of antiquity."

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. FYI, did you notice the names of the characters? Major kudos to whoever figures out who they are and what they're from...

Don't forget to feed the little gremlin review box at the bottom otherwise he'll get cranky.


	3. In The Mouth of Madness

**The French Connection**

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or any of their characters. Got it?

Summary: While passing the time at the BAU, the team hears a story...

A/N: Well, here's chapter three. I think their might be another one or two coming after this. We'll see how it comes along.

Kudos to **NNataliee**, **CMCity** and **rubygem102** for guessing that the characters in Dave's story were the actors in other roles outside of the Criminal Minds world.

So without further ado, enjoy.

Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.

* * *

"Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it." George Santayana

* * *

"Then what happened?" Morgan asked, coming back to the round table passing the potato chips he finagled from Garcia's secret stash passing the large bag to the brunette who quickly passed it to her left.

"Yeah," Garcia added, munching loudly on a potato chip, "Who gave Agent Stone the golden goose on his noggin?"

While the team sat still in their seats, Dave tilted his head, inwardly smirking as he continued on with his story.

"Now when Stone came to in the back of the small office, he quickly unsteadily got to his feet..."

While the agent tried to get his bearings, wondering who he was going to have to rough up for the pounding and throbbing that was dancing around in his head. Lifting his gaze, he gasped.

_'It couldn't be,_' he told himself, instantly regretting as he tried to shake the sight before him, _'How can this be?' _

"Hello Raymond," the voice greeted the agent, "Sorry about the blow to the head but..." a shrug followed by a scoff escaped their lips, "Henchmen, you know?"

"You're not real," Stone whispered, his hands going over his eyes while his head still ached, "You're not here."

"Really?" a coy chuckle escaped the other person's throat, "I feel real."

Raising his head, the agent's eyes met that of his attacker's, "What the hell are you doing here? Where the hell have you been for the past few months? And why..."

"Uh uh," the person hushed the agent, "There's a time and a place for _that_ conversation. Unfortunately, that's not now. Gotta go."

Stone gathered his bearings, he braced himself on a chair beside him, "Hold it!"

"Parkfield?" the other person kept moving towards the back of the door, "Parkfield! Hugh?"

That made the man pause, turning slowly to his one-time friend, "Yeah Ray?"

"You did it, didn't you?" Stone questioned him, "Why?"

"Why not?" Parkfield replied, "Maybe it's about the money, or maybe it's because I'm bored. Hell, maybe it's because Lisa left me..."

Stone flinched at that, but Hugh continued, "What matters now, is that I'm leaving. Goodbye."

Finally able to stand up without help, Stone launched himself to the other man knocking him down to the ground. Both men struggled for control, and although Parkfield had a few years younger on himself then Stone, it was the agent who was in more shape then his one-time friend.

While the two men tussled about, each trying to subdue the other both distracted that they didn't take notice that someone watching from the shadows before they retreated from the sight.

"Now," they muttered into an earpiece, walking out the side door and blending in with the large gallery crowd.

While the two men were still duking it out for control both surprised when the sound of a gun firing tore the two apart.

"What the fuck is going on here?" the voice commanded, "You, old man off the other old man."

"Now look here, buddy," Parkfield began as he got off the ground, "Put the gun down, son."

"I'm not your son, pal." the man spit out, "Hands up, both of you."

As Stone slowly rose from the ground, he raised the palm of his hands trying not to aggravate the situation, unlike Parkfield.

"Are either of you arm?" the gun wielding man asked, "Answer me!"

Stone slowly removed his side arm, then turned to Parkfield watching as the stoned face man refused to pass over his own weapon.

The other man clicked off the safety of his gun, "If you don't pass that gun over I'm going to shoot you, and believe it will be in places you will miss."

That caught Parkfield's attention, he kneeled down removing his weapon from its ankle holster and slid it to the man in charge.

"Wise decision," the man offered the two a smirk, "Now walk slowly to the door."

Parkfield raised his hands, "How about telling us who you are?"

"I don't think that's really important." the man told him, as he slightly shoved the man forward towards the door, "Now move..."

The three jumped in surprise when the door opened, "What the hell is going on in here?"

"Excuse me?" the gun wielding man asked, hiding his gun behind his back, "Ma'am this is a restricted area. I'm afraid you'll have to go."

"I know that," the woman hissed out narrowing her dark eyes on the three, "After all I happen to own this gallery."

"You own it?" Stone asked, racking his brain, "You're Scott?"

"God not anymore," she disdainfully replied, "I'm Allison Conklin."

"The socialite," he scoffed underneath his breath, "Of course."

"Is that suppose to be some snide comment directed at me?" she countered with a raised eyebrow.

"Where exactly is this story going?" JJ interrupted, "I mean there are so many storylines..."

"Need I repeat myself?" Dave asked, his hard gaze landing upon the blonde agent, "Now, as I was saying..."

"Take it how you want lady," the man scoffed, his elbow digging into the back of Stone as he kept a firm hand on Parkfield's lower back, "But you really need to leave. Now."

The girl indignantly huffed out a frustrated and annoyed sigh, balling her fist together then placing them on her hips, "Excuse me?"

"You. Go," the man exacerbated again, "Now."

Cocking her head to the side, she took in the scene before her. Knowing something was amiss, she pursed her lips together ready to call the man out on his own secrecy when the pair locked eyes on each other.

Something told the other that the strong personality in front of them would not be taking this situation lightly.

"Sorry to ruin the moment," Stone clipped out. The agent didn't want to draw attention to his and Parkfield's plight which could endanger the woman's life, but he didn't appreciate being used as a human shield either...

"Very well," the man sighed as he reached behind him, pulling the hidden weapon, "Since you just had to invite yourself to the party... Raise your hands, miss."

"No," she defiantly protested.

"Beg your pardon?" the man queried, "You're denying me?"

"Damn right," she marched across the empty back studio, "You can take this up with the local authorities. I will not have you ruin my night."

"Spoiled brat," the man muttered under his breath, turning his hard glare on the woman.

"Look Skippy," Allison growled out, "I don't know what you're doing with these two men nor do I care, just take it out of my gallery."

"I was planning on it," the man said, pulling out his weapon, "Now go or you can join these two in the afterlife," the woman froze at that, "I don't think they throw soirees in Hell."

He made a motion with his hands for her to move out-of-the-way, "Now move."

"I'd listen to him, sweetheart," Stone told the young woman, "Just move aside."

Taking stock in what the older man said, Allison stepped to the side allowing the two men to move past her as the captor roughly shoved the end of his gun into Stone and Parkfield's back.

"Wise decision," he grumbled, turning the gun on her, "Now you move too."

The woman's jaw dropped, "Excuse me?"

"I said move that skinny ass of yours," he repeated, his tone turning to ice.

"Well, I never..." she indignantly huffed, a pout forming on her face.

The man hmm at that, grasping onto the Allison's tiny elbow leading her out the back way long with the two men. Once they were a safe distance away he was broad sided with a sucker punch to the face causing him to tumble backwards as his back hit a brick wall.

Parkfield took the opportunity of distraction to try to run away only for Stone to tackle the man on to the ground.

"You got him?" Stone asked Allison. The younger woman was grappling with their would-be abductor.

"Yeah," she grunted, turning sideways to subdue the man, "Call it in."

The gruff sound of her voice made the man beneath her pause, frowning in confusion.

"Alexander Rotha," Allison stated, "You're under arrest for the attempted murder of Detective Raymond Stone, the murders of Michelle Turner, Angela Bridges, and Lucy Stanton."

"It'll never stick," Rotha muttered while Parkfield wore a shocked look.

"You're a cop?" Parkfield murmured, "Hot damn."

Stone roughly grabbed on to Parkfield's upper arm tightening his hold on him, watching the man wince, "Watch your mouth."

The loud commotion drew the attention of the guests who gathered outside watching the commotion between the older agent wrangling while Reese came out, rushing to take Rotha from Allison.

"Hey, I can handle this," she told the athletic man, "After all I'm the agent, not you."

That made Reese snort, "You're FBI?"

"No," she dryly retorted giving the plain clothes detective a once over, "I'm C.I.A."

That made the two suspects and detective still, "Yep, Agent..."

"Who the hell botched my job?" a loud voice shrieked, storming through the crime scene. The steely gazed made even the unflappable Rotha look a way, "Is someone going to answer me?"

"Ma'am," Stone smoothly answered.

"That's Assistant U.S. Attorney Marion Springer," she clipped out in a cold tone, "And you will do well, Agent Stone, as to inform me why I wasn't informed that the C.I.A and F.B.I. were in collusion on my case."

"Your case," Allison scoffed, "With all due respect, madame, I've been on this case for eighteen months, trying to catch this piece of crap,"

"Hey," Rotha protested, only for the woman to tug on his restraints, "I like it rough, baby, but how about someplace a little more privately?"

"Watch your mouth, pal," Stone hissed, passing Parkfield off to Reese who roughly shoved the older man into the back of a squad car.

While Allison was debriefing the Captain, Rotha was passed from the female agent to a local cop, McLaren.

Stone turned his charm onto the angered attorney, "Ms. Springer, I would be more than happy to answer all of your questions. How about over dinner?"

"Agent Stone," Springer scolded, "Are you hitting on me?"

"Sounds like it to me," Kimberly Corman declared, "And yeah thanks for the heads up. Nothing like getting my butt pinched the better part of the night without telling me that you already had a female undercover."

"Can't tell what we don't know, sweet thang," Reese answered as he came back to the group, "Besides, it was a pretty easy case thanks to these two."

"Still say it was too easy," the female officer muttered, ignoring the coy smile that McLaren sent her way.

"She's right," Reid interrupted the story, "That case was solved too quickly. The hypothesis of a serial being captured too early along with the fact that you alluded to not one but..."

Morgan quickly clamped his hand over the younger man's mouth, "Do you want to be shot?"

Quirking his eyebrow, Reid shook his head while Morgan nodded in Dave's direction, "Then stay quiet."

"You can continue..." Garcia sweetly smiled, trying to diffuse any anger from the older profiler.

"All right, now listen to this part." Dave started, gathering the team's attention as he continued his story.

* * *

James Baldwin said, "People are trapped in history, and history is trapped in them."

* * *

**To Be Continued... **

Keep an eye out for the next chapter. Not sure how long it will be.

Don't forget to drop a review in the box below, I need to know what you all think... Starting to wonder if anyone still likes me. *yeah I went there*


	4. A Face With Many Names

**The French Connection**

Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or any of their characters. Got it?

Summary: While passing the time at the BAU, the team hears a story...

A/N: Here's chapter four. I think there will be one another one after this, we'll have to wait to see. Anywho I hope you all have enjoyed this story. On with the show.

Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.

* * *

"The good die young, because they see it's no use living if you got to be good." John Barrymore

* * *

"So what happened next?" JJ asked, resting her chin on the palm of her hands while she watched Emily and Garcia both eye the playing cards with desperate envy.

"Well that's the thing," Dave paused, seeing that he really had everyone's attention, he continued, "There really isn't an ending."

"What?" Morgan asked, "How can there not be an ending?"

"Well it was just a little something that's been stuck in my mind," Dave pursed his lips, "I knew I should have stuck with true crime."

"No, no, no, no," Garcia soothingly comforting him, "It wasn't that bad. Right guys?"

The look the blonde technical analyst shot the group made each one of them agree.

"Right," Emily added, "Besides, no one ever said writing was easy. You know, it is your story and you could end it how you see fit."

"So that was really the ending?" Reid repeated, grunting at the jab in the side Morgan gave him, "I mean there isn't anything that drove you to that point in your story?"

As the older man pondered that, something caught his attention one that the others didn't notice or rather, didn't see. Letting the wheels spin in his head. Pursing his lips together and blurted out the first thing that came out.

"Ok now this is what I like to think," Dave started.

At the precinct, Stone and Allison stood to the side watching the locals book Parkfield and Rotha. The two agents noticed that once Kimberly walked by the them, they were being watched.

But not by the detectives, or even Kimberly, what captured the man's attention was the look on Rotha's face. A smirk, a smug one at that.

Stone's eyes followed the male unsubs and it landed on Allison. The younger woman had no idea that the creep had her in his sights. If it weren't for a fact that the man was guarded by several officers, Stone would have ripped his eyes from its sockets and shoved them down his throat.

"So how long?" Reese asked the man, while Allison stepped aside to speak with Kimberly.

"How long what?" the agent repeated, turning his attention away from the two-way mirror to the man beside him.

"You and miss thang been partners?" watching the younger man tilt his side, "Please the way you and Agent Conklin..." frowning, "Wait, is her name even Allison Conklin?"

The woman strolled over to them, a smirk on her face, "No, but I do answer to anything. "

"So what's your real name?" Reese challenged her, "How long have you been C.I.A.?"

"To answer your second question, practically forever," she informed him, "And as for my name? Huh."

"Huh, what?" Reese questioned, watching as she bit her lower lip, "You do know your own name, don't you?"

"I've had a lot of names," she told him, "I've been a Binky, Michelle and a Lily. Hell even a Valerie. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to sign off on some paper work before Stone and I can head out..."

As she was moving through the crowd, she bumped into someone.

"Sorry," she called out.

"It's quite all right," the young man replied before converging with the uniformed officers out of sight.

Making her way to the Captain's office, Allison paused raising a her fist ready to knock on the dark wood frame when someone grabbed the woman from behind pulling her into a quiet office.

"WHAT?!" Garcia gasped, "Who grabbed her? Hello mon ami? Who? Who?"

"Someone sounds like an owl," Morgan snickered, not missing the glare the blonde shot him, "What?"

"Who took... Allison?" Garcia demanded, "Huh? Wait, it wasn't McLaren was it?"

"No," JJ protested, "Please don't say it was him."

The male team members shot the agent a puzzled look, "What? I like him."

Dave rolled his eyes, "As I was saying..."

The female agent grunted against the protesting hands, "Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me."

Thrusting her heeled boot backwards she could hear a pained gasp before she was released turning around, her eyes widen, "What the hell?"

Dave held in the chuckle he wanted to emit when he saw the two blondes held hands, tightening in fear, "While the cops were dealing with the resistance from Parkfield..."

Stone stood still, watching as Reese and McLaren were trying to question the silent man. Letting out a sigh, Stone knocked on the mirror, alerting the two of his presence.

"Lets talk," the man told the younger two, following them to the back.

"Surprised to see me?" he chuckled, "Come on, darling, I know it's been awhile since we've last tango, but are you really that surprised?"

"More like pissed off," Allison hissed out, slugging the man in the shoulder, "What the hell are you doing here, John?"

"Same as you, dear," he told her, "I'm on the clock."

She paused, "They sent you for him?"

"Alexander Rotha has to be handled," John told her, "One that needs to be taken care of right away."

"I highly doubt that these locals are going to let your traipse through their investigation to let you take him," she narrowed her eyes, "I thought you were still chasing after...uh, you know... Galen?"

"He's been thoroughly managed," he told her, "So, who were you partnered with here?"

"No, not him" the British snickered at her silence, "Are you serious, Stone?"

"Yep," she dryly answered, watching him guffaw at that, "You through?"

"One more..." holding up a finger, double over in laughter before resuming his stance, "So darling, will you be doing your usual distraction for me, or I always preferred it when you..."

Covering his mouth with her hand, "Don't even say it, let alone think it."

He grabbed hold of the slender wrist, "I promise. Now go out there..."

While Stone was quietly speaking with Reese about the wrap up of their case, he noticed the interior shutters moving from the back office. He paused, instantly tuning out the man beside him while his focused resumed on the smaller room.

"Where'd you go, man?" Reese asked, wondering why the agent had suddenly gone silent, "Stone?"

The FBI agent abruptly made his way through the crowd, taking stock in the locals thanking him for his help, which he shrugged off as he opened the door.

"What the hell?" Allison cried out, turning around to shield herself from her on the job partner, "Don't you knock?"

"What's going on in here?" his eyes scanning the room, taking note of her being alone.

"Voting, what does it look like I'm doing?" she snapped, holding the dark top up, "I'm changing out of that ridiculous undercover outfit. Do you mind?"

"You're alone," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I'm not one big on voyeurism," she turned her back to him, "You're watching?"

"Going," he paused, "Hey, good job tonight," he saw her tense at that, "Are you sure you're ok?"

Taking a bated breath, "I will be, soon."

Closing the door behind him, he walked over to Reese who was rushing towards the back interrogation rooms. The loud, combined echoes of frenzied, panicked voices of several police officers urged the agent to rush over to find out what was happening.

Once he was by the younger man's side, Reese turned partly to look at him, "He's gone."

"Who's gone?" the agent asked, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw the empty interrogation room that had previously housed Rotha, "Shit, what about Parkfield?"

"He's still here," McLaren called out, turning away from the other two way mirror, "How the hell did this happen?"

Reese's gaze went from the interrogation room to the man next to him, "Well?"

"Well what?" Stone asked, his eyes scanning the room for his female partner. He had a nagging sensation in the back of his mind, "Where's the file?"

"Here," Kimberly answered, her head buried in a case file the three men soon gained her attention, "In Rotha's file it doesn't say anything about other partners, other then Parkfield over there," pausing she grumbled, "I knew that the creep was wanted wanted practically by every agency known to man, but of course."

"Of course, what?" McLaren asked, looking over the blonde's shoulder, "A hit on him?"

"What?" both Stone and Reese cried out in unison. The older agent ripping the file from the woman's hands scanning it quickly, "Interpol and MI:5 want him taken out?"

"Just how bad is this guy?" Reese asked, "I mean murder and robbery? I get that, but to warrant a contract on his life?"

"Apparently Rotha used to be small time," Kimberly read from the file, "Robberies and small time crime, then he freelanced out to bigger and badder guys," she paused, "Oh boy, not only did he work with Parkfield, but he has been in contact with the likes of Jerry Jacks, Vincent Janesen and oh boy Connor Wells..."

"Are you kidding me?" Kimberly gasped, while the young detective beside her frowned.

"Who's Connor Wells?" McLaren asked.

"Let's just put it this way, he's not a good guy," Reese muttered, turning his attention back to the older man, "Are you going in there or am I?"

Stone stormed passed the officers heading straight to the back room full of determination. He was going to get answers once and for all.

Barging through the door, the older man chained to the desk looked up in stunned silence. Composing himself before the agent, "Something the matter, Ray?"

"Who?" Stone demanded, "Who else were you partnered with besides Rotha?"

Snorting Parkfield leaned back as far as he could in the sterile metal chair, "Do I look like I work with partners?"

Stone leaned in, his hands gripping the edge of the metal desk, he growled, "Does it look like I'm joking?"

"Can't tell with that mustache in the way," Parkfield snarked, "Ask your little brown-haired friend."

"Excuse me?" the agent growled out. He couldn't be talking about her, could he? "What exactly did you do?"

"I'm not responsible for what goes on out there while I'm locked up. So unless you've got something on me, I want my lawyer."

Stone's grip released off the table as he lunged for the prisoner, not caring that he could tank the entire case with his actions. He knew, without even being told that Parkfield was making a jab at his female agent and he didn't take that too kindly.

"Whoa man," Reese called out, grabbing Stone from Parkfield, "Calm down man, calm down."

"Listen to the man," the prisoner taunted, "Maybe you'll pick up a thing or two, Raymond."

"Watch it man," Reese warned Parkfield.

"Maybe not," Parkfield muttered, looking away from the two law officials, "Where's the girl, huh?"

Reese and Stone paused at that. Both men had been so focused on Rotha's disappearance and finding out the truth from Parkfield that they hadn't even questioned where the female agent was.

"I thought so," Parkfield's gravely voice scoffed, "And there you have it. You've got your answers," looking smugly at Stone, "Now get my lawyer."

"WAIT!" Garcia's loud voice poked through the storyteller's calming tone, "What the heck happened to Allison?"

Dave turned his unamused gaze on to the bubbly blonde, "For that, you'll have to tune in next time."

The older profiler stood up, gathering his belongings then turned slightly readying himself to leave the conference room.

"You're leaving?" JJ asked puzzled, "Why?"

"As I have repeatedly reminded you children," he answered lightly, "I do not like being interrupted during my storytelling. I've given you ample warning, but you hadn't yield like petulant children..."

The watched the older man walk out of the conference room in stunned silence.

"Nice going, JJ," Garcia hissed to her blonde friend.

"You're blaming me?" the former media liaison demanded, "I kept my mouth shut when he spoke. You," she pointedly retorted, "You kept interrupting him every other word."

Hotch stood up, heading out the door, "Where you going man?"

"To bring Rossi back," the team leader assured everyone heading out of the room, "So you can hear the end of his story."

* * *

"All men can be criminals, if tempted; all men can be heroes, if inspired." G.K. Chesterton

* * *

**To Be Continued... **

Ok, I think there might be one more chapter in this story, just to wrap things up. I'm not sure. Hope you've all enjoyed it.

Anyway, did you like it? Good, bad or indifferent leave a review to let me know.


	5. And The Beat Goes On

**The French Connection**

Disclaimer: I still don't own Criminal Minds or any characters that belongs on the show. Capisce?

Summary: While passing the time at the BAU, the team hears a story...

A/N: So here's the newest chapter of this story, I honestly have no idea where I want this to go, but there maybe one more chapter in it.

Sorry if this isn't up to standards but I need to make sure I have everything covered. So here we go.

Thanks again for reading, don't forget to leave a review.

* * *

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." John Lennon

* * *

"So that's it?" Garcia asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she pulled down the rim of her pink eyeglasses to give Morgan a look, "Since when did Hotch become all interested in mon ami's story?"

"Uh, because he's being polite?" JJ offered with a shrug, "He's trying to spare Dave's feelings and keep the fighting down, at least to a minimum?"

"She's right," Morgan added, "Look Baby Girl, you know how I love your ramblings," he saw the blonde analyst wink at him, "But you have to tone it down where Rossi."

"What?" she gasped, "Derek Morgan, are you saying I talk too much?"

"Yes," Emily, JJ and Reid chimed in unison watching as Garcia narrowed her eyes on the three.

"I think not," she protested, taking a deep breath, "I'm just passionate about..."

"Everything," Morgan finished, "Baby Girl, I know you mean well but there... there just needs to be..."

"What?" she demanded.

"A filter between your cute ramblings and the annoying ones," Reid finished for her, his cheeks crimson due to everyone looking at him in stunned surprised, "What?"

"Since when did Boy Genius grow some cojones?" Garcia asked, not in anger but impressed.

Everyone but Reid snickered at that, while the young genius huffed indignantly.

"Cute," Reid muttered, folding his arms in embarrassed annoyance.

"Where the hell is Rossi..." Garcia grumbled once everyone resumed their control.

"Right here, kitten, right here" the older man stated from the doorway, "Now are you children willing to behave or do I have to..."

"Make another dramatic exit?" Emily offered, smirking at him.

"Oh aren't you just as cute as a button, Prentiss" the older man mused, not missing the glare that Hotch sent him, "Now everyone back in their seats, please."

Once everyone was seated in silence, Dave turned to Garcia, "And if you interrupt me once again, kitten I'll take you over my knee..."

"And spank me?" she finished with a chuckle. Seeing the blank look on his face, "Oh please don't have me fired, or sent to Sexual Harassment again."

"We'll have a talk about that later on," Hotch interjected, "Go on, Rossi."

Giving the three a pointed look, Dave leaned back in his seat contemplating for a moment which left the group with an uncomfortable silence that anyone liked.

"Is he still breathing?" Emily whispered to JJ.

"I think so," the blonde whispered back, "Look his goatee is moving."

"Anyway," Dave spoke up, "Here's where things get really interesting..."

The small group of law enforcement officers made their way to the tiny break room the police officers seething at the sudden disappearances of Allison and Rotha.

"How well do you know that woman?" Reese demanded, "Because from where I'm standing, she let that killer go."

"I'm surprised she didn't let Parkfield go too," McLaren added, both men flinching when the sound of a hand pounding down on a desk permeated the room.

"Enough!" Kimberly interrupted, "Forget all that, and focus on the fact that a killer just escaped custody."

"We've got LEOs and agents on the street," Stone assured her, standing straight, "But I don't think it was that agent who let Rotha go."

"How can you say that?" Reese asked, "Allison's gone. Rotha's gone. Stands to reason she's with him."

Right as Stone was about to protest McLaren spoke up, "Considering the look he had sent her, I could believe it."

"Neither of you know her," Stone shook his head emphatically, "You don't get it, I _know_ her."

"Just how well?" Reese asked pointedly, not accusing more so than assuming.

"Maybe not as well as you think," Springer clipped out walking towards the group holding files in her perfectly manicured hands, "Did you know about this?"

All eyes went straight to the file the older woman slapped down on the desk, "There's your proof."

Stone quickly snatched up the manila folder, silently reading over the dossier on his sometime partner, "Who's John Quinn?"

"That would be her handler," she retorted, "Seems that her C.I.A. crew was a bunch of rag and tag cleaners who took care of problems."

"Are you serious?" Reese asked, thrusting a file from her for himself.

"As a heart attack," the older woman answered cooly, "Detective Reese, have you conducted a questioning on Hugh Parkfield about his time with Alexander Rotha?"

"He won't speak without an attorney, Marion" Stone informed her, "The only thing he'd cop to was pointing out that the likely reason Rotha skipped was because it was an inside job."

"Well, I think it's safe to say that Agent Lauren Wilde is persona non grata..." she started,

"Who?" Kimberly asked.

"I think they're talking about Allison," McLaren whispered, both zeroing in on the next sentence.

"I'm going to issue a warrant for her and Rotha's arrest," Springer added, "I want them found now. Call in every favor that's been owed, use every contact that you've ever come across...

Stone pinched the bridge of his nose trying to ward off the upcoming headache that he knew was coming.

Turning his attention to Springer, "Ma'am, with all due respect, how do we even know that Agent Wilde, is responsible for Rotha's escape? He had money, connections and power. He wasn't afraid to take Agent Wilde, Parkfield, and myself in a back alley outside an art show."

"What's your point?" Springer demanded.

"What McLaren is saying, that we need to find her handler and see if he knows anything," Reese interjected, "Before jumping the gun, so to speak, we go over all the facts."

The U.S. attorney blanched at that, she stiffened her spine ready to defend her choice when a quiet voice behind the group stole their attention.

"Excuse me?" the feminine tone called out, "I'm looking for an Agent Stone?"

The man in question turned, looking at the face of the young reporter he met earlier, "Ms. Anderson?"

"Please, it's Laura," she greeted him, turning to the narrow eyes of Springer, "Laura Anderson, reporter."

"We have no comment at this time," the older woman clipped out turning her back on the blonde, "See yourself out."

The novice reporter stood there shock, too afraid to speak but the kind smile Stone sent her shook her from her frozen state, "Eh hem, ma'am?"

The attorney gave the woman a once over, "Yes?"

"I, uh, I'm not here for an official comment," she quickly answered, "I... I'm... here about a tip."

Reese made his way over to Laura, "Talk to me, Baby Girl."

Both Emily and JJ snorted at that, while Morgan narrowed his dark gaze on their older friend.

"It's a work of fiction," Dave said, he turned to Garcia, "And no comment from the peanut gallery."

The perky technical analyst shot Dave a smirk, "Writing about moi? I'm touched."

It didn't escape anyone the growl he silently emitted, "Oh, I'll show you touched."

"He wouldn't hit her, would he?" JJ quietly whispered.

"The probability of Rossi actually striking a co-worker..." Reid started, but pursed his lips at the dual glare Garcia and Dave sent his way told him otherwise.

"Continue Dave," Hotch's commanding tone overrode the uncomfortable silence.

"Excuse me?" Laura scoffed, "I'm here for Agent Stone, not some overzealous lothario."

Kimberly snickered before clearing her throat, "Why don't we step into the back office?"

Making their way into the Commissioner's office, Springer turned around, "What is this evidence you have, Miss?"

"Anderson, Laura Anderson," the blonde greeted, holding up a purple file, "Here."

Springer opened up the reporter's file, her eyes instantly widening, "Is this a reliable source?"

"Yes ma'am," Laura answered emphatically, "I got it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

The older woman raised an eyebrow, "You've spoken with this 'source'? I want to meet with them."

"Funny you should say that," Laura grinned, "There is someone that wants to speak with you. Over here."

The reporter turned around peering out the door, "You can come in now."

Reese raised an eyebrow watching as both Stone and Springer stood dumbfounded, "Ok, who is it?"

"My name is Deputy Director Arly Hanks," the older brunette addressed the officer, "I was second-in-command on the Alexander Rotha case."

"So you were in charge of Allison's team?" Kimberly asked, "What about her handler?"

"Agent Wilde's handler," Hanks corrected, "Her handler, Quinn, has disappeared."

"What do you mean disappeared?" Stone asked, "I thought he was on assignment?"

The Deputy Director leaned against the door frame, pinching the bridge of her nose, "He dropped off the map a little over four weeks ago. He was about to be placed on leave for disciplinary action when..."

"When what?" Stone demanded. How was he suppose to trust that his agent friend was safe if she was in contact with a leader who couldn't follow the rules, "Hanks?"

"There was an incident with a detainee," she paused, "Both Wilde and Quinn where alone with someone brought in on... well that's classified."

"Hell lady, classified flew out the window a long time ago," Reese snarled, "What happened?"

The older woman stood stiffly straight before taking a deep breath, "John Quinn is under investigation for coercion and assault."

"Tell me he did not talk Lauren into breaking protocol and putting her own ass on the line so he could go after Rotha," Stone asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"There's one thing I want to know," Reese paused, seemingly deep in thought before continuing "Is there some sort of history between Rotha and Quinn?"

Springer, Stone and Laura all turned their attention to Hanks, "I don't know what you mean," the woman stiffened at that.

"Cut the crap lady," Stone clipped out, "We know there's more than meets the eye on this case. So either spill it or we'll have you drawn up on Obstruction of Justice, lying to a federal agents and..."

"Accessory after the fact and murder," Springer added, internally smirking by the surprised look on Stone's face, "I will have you locked up in a cell before you can even blink. So answer the questions."

"Fine," she sighed, "There's only so much I can tell you without breaching my security clearance."

The older woman took a seat at the metal desk, "Alexander Rotha first came across our path in 1995 when he was suspected of collusion with a known terrorist turned murder."

"Who?" Stone queried.

"Finneas Patrick O'Neill," she muttered quickly then cleared her throat, "Well you know what happened to him."

"What?" Laura asked, the woman didn't have the same clearance as the others and had a hard enough time gathering the information that she could.

"He was found murdered in 1998 after a botched art heist," Stone answered, his gaze firmly held onto the older woman, "How could you let this happen?"

"It was before my time," Hanks defended herself, "If you want anyone to blame, blame Quinn. He's the one who couldn't keep his temper in check. Rotha may have murdered O'Neill but Quinn wasn't exactly innocent in this."

Reese looked over at the FBI agent, he could see the man in contemplation, "What man?"

Stone gave the man a sideways glance before turning back to the woman in charge, "There's something else you're not telling us. What is it?"

"It's not relevant to this case," she answered dismissively.

Laura narrowed her eyes, pushing through the officers and the agent, she wrenched herself at Hanks, "Listen up, missy and listen good. I did not track you down just for you to play the mute. Know you're going to give me answers and give them now."

Shoving the Deputy Director forward towards the metal chair she snarled, "Now start spilling."

The entire room was silent at that. No one had any idea where the blonde reporter found the courage to speak to an official in such a manner but they weren't complaining because it got the woman to open up.

"There was a woman," she quietly whispered.

"What woman?" Springer demanded, angry that her airtight case was blowing apart.

"Elise," Hanks cleared her throat, "She was a citizen, not involved in this case."

"Was?" Kimberly paused, "What happened to her?"

"She was killed in an explosion walking into her restaurant," Hanks said, "It was at the same time that John Quinn was working on Rotha's original case."

"And what does this have to do with Agent Wilde?" McLaren questioned what everyone wondered.

"She's a dead ringer for Elise," Hanks informed the group, "Quinn believes Rotha was behind her death."

Stone rubbed his temples, it all made sense know. The elusiveness behind the arrest. Rotha being caught so easily. Parkfield's silence on the case. The man had onetime had been his mentor and partner at the Bureau before mysteriously disappearing into a life of crime.

Stone stormed out of the small office, "Where are you going?" Springer demanded.

"To get some answers," he muttered as he stormed through the police precinct bullpen.

While the others quickly snapped out of their temporary haze they rushed out of the small room following the Federal Agent to the back interrogation room.

Parkfield's head snapped up when he heard the loud bang of the metal door, "Bad lunch?"

"Listen up, Hugh," Stone paused, tempering down his anger, "You're going to tell me everything you didn't tell me about Alexander Rotha and John Quinn."

"And why should I?" Parkfield leaned back in the metal chair.

"You were an agent once," Stone reminded him, "And there has to be some good left in you."

The shackled man rolled his eyes, looking away from his onetime partner.

"It was Elise wasn't it?" Stone stated, "She's what changed you from who you used to be to what you are now."

Parkfield's hard gaze landed on him, "Don't you dare speak her name. You never met her."

The conflicted agent leaned in, his palms resting on the cool table top, "But Lisa did. Your former wife had the biggest heart around and I know you know more then you're letting on."

Hugh Parkfield sighed, folding his cuffed hands on the table.

"If not for me, then do it for Lisa and Elise," Stone begged, "Tell me everything you know about Quinn, Rotha and Elise. Lauren's career is on the line. Maybe even her life."

"Alright," the former agent pursed his lips, "She does look a lot like Elise," sighing he took a deep breath, "Sit down."

The younger man took a seat, Parkfield leaned in, "Now this is where things started to get - interesting."

Stone's eyes widened as he listened to Parkfield tell his tale on the two men in question.

* * *

"There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about." Oscar Wilde

* * *

**To Be Concluded...**

Ok, I got stuck on the ending. Sorry if it's not that good, I'm going back and forth between two different stories right now.

Anyway, did you like it? Good or bad, review and let me know what you all think.


	6. Once More, With Feeling

**The French Connection **

Disclaimer: Criminal Minds belongs to CBS and their affiliates, not me. End of sentence.

Summary: While passing the time at the BAU, the team hears a story...

A/N: Well, we've finally reached the conclusion, I want to thank you all for the interest in this story. Oh and your patience too. I know that it took forever but my computer had died out on me before I could finish this chapter, and I lost all my files for it so, thank goodness for my beta who held on to this version. I came up with this idea for the story, I knew it was perfect in my opinion. I hope you all like this too. And now on with the story.

Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.

* * *

"Distorted realities have always been my cup of tea." Virginia Woolf

* * *

Dave took a deep breath, exhaling as he took a look around the room. He was actually surprised that the team hadn't interrupted him this time.

"And?" Morgan asked, finally breaking the silence, "What happens next?"

"Yeah, what did Parkfield tell Stone?" JJ added, "And what really happened with Allison... I mean Lauren?"

Dave pursed his lips, savoring the teams anticipation. This was something he had awaited for a long time, and he wasn't going to let it pass him by. Not by a long shot.

"Are you still alive in there? Hello?" Garcia demanded, her impatience rearing its ugly head once again, "Did he have a stroke or something?"

His lips curved into a mischievous smile, one that made the others paused.

"Where was I?" Dave teased, amused by Garcia's eyes narrowing on him, "Oh, that's right. Stone was listening to Parkfield tell him everything. About how at one time John Quinn was a happy man, not one of a focused man determined to settle a score..."

"What are you going to do with him?" Lauren asked while the shackled man struggled against hers and John's hold.

As John kicked the driver side door closed with his foot, he tightened his grip on struggling man, "Watch it pal."

"I'm not your pal, prick," Rotha hissed, "So what is this revenge?"

Lauren raised an eyebrow, "Revenge?"

"No," John quickly dismissed, "It's about justice."

As the two agents lead the man through the back entrance of the back of the low rent, rundown no-tell-motel.

Rotha stopped mid-step despite the tugging from the female agent, "You didn't tell her, did you?"

"Tell her what?" Lauren repeated, turning her head in her partner's direction, "John, what this piece of crap talking about?"

"Way to make a fella feel the loved," Rotha muttered, "Yeah, what am I talking about, John?"

"Nothing," John's thick British accent emphasized, he shoved the dark-haired man against the wall undoing his handcuffs then turning Rotha around, "You are to do as I say, understand?"

"Not really," the man snorted, "What's to say that I don't simply take you out. Right here and now?" he raised an eyebrow turning his dark gaze on the brunette beside them, "And have a little fun in the process?"

The Britain didn't take too kindly to that, he grabbed Rotha by the scruff of the collar, "You so much as breath in her direction, it will be the last thing you do. Understand? I will end you."

"John," Lauren soothingly tried to break through the two man's iron lock gaze upon each other, "Agent Quinn!"

The male agent gave his partner a sideways glance, "What?"

"Not that I don't know what's going on between the two of you," she exhaled, "But perhaps this could be done elsewhere? Unless you'd like for both of us to share a cell with him here, we better get out of sight."

"Now that I wouldn't mind," Rotha teased, before his eyes locked with John's, "Him however... I could do without."

"Too damn bad," John hissed out, before shoving the man towards the elevators, "Move that tub of lard."

While the three silently moved, Lauren was bumped into from behind causing the other two men to not notice the woman pausing to look at the retreating form of a younger man in a dark ball cap.

"Where have I..." Lauren murmured to herself, not paying attention as she entered the elevator. Shaking her head, she was about to push the close button when a lanky form made their way into the sliding door.

"Hold the elevator!" a meek voice squeaked out before the doors slid close, "Thanks a lot."

"No problem," Rotha mockingly replied, eyeing the young man in front of him

Lauren paused, recognizing the young man as the one who just bumped into her. Turning her eyes to John, the man kept his eyes trained on the flashing buttons looking for their floor.

Even as the small group stood in silence, Rotha's gaze trailed from John to appreciatively Lauren's before landing on him. There was something familiar about him, but he couldn't place his finger on it, "Hey kid."

The man in the cap slightly turned as the elevator came to its first destination stop, "Who me?"

"No, I'm talking to the other young man in here," Rotha sarcastically answered, "Yeah you."

"Stop talking," John ordered the prisoner, grasping at his arm trying to lead the trio out of the confined space.

Once the British was out of the silver box, something happened that surprised the unfazed man. The lengthy young man hit the closed button on the elevator separating the two agents from each other trapping Lauren inside with their prisoner and the stranger.

"And then what happened even surprised Rotha," Dave paused for dramatic effect, he internally smirked. It appeared that his off the top of his head, odd ball story had finally caught the teams attention.

"And?" Reid asked, wincing when he felt an elbow poke at his side, "Ouch. Do you mind?"

"Shush," Garcia whispered glaring at him, "Pay attention."

"And you wanna know what happened?" Rossi asked, watching the eager eyes of his teammates fall upon him, "Here's where things start to make sense..."

"What the hell did you do that for?" Lauren asked, keeping a firm grip on Rotha's cuff while pounding on the open button. Sighing in defeat she turned her eyes on to the young man, "What the hell, man?"

"Nice move, kid," Rotha chuckled, "So how much do I owe you?"

"What?" the lengthy, young man asked, seemingly in a transparent state.

"For breaking me out?" Rotha asked, his mood shifting until he noticed the way the intruder maneuvered himself away from the others.

Quickly whipped out a gun from the back of his tweed jacket, waving it before the smirking man. Not even brandishing his weapon phased Rotha, unlike Lauren who knew that things were escalating fast.

"Whoa," she soothingly murmured, her hands raised trying to placate the man, "You need to lower your weapon."

"Can't do that," his shaky voice said, "He's has to pay for what he's done."

"He will," Lauren assured him, "Tell me your name."

"Simon," he said, rubbing the sleeve of his jacket against his forehead, "My name is Simon."

"Simon," she repeated, "You need to give me that gun. Whatever he's done to you, he will pay for."

"Oh, don't lie to the boy," Rotha scoffed, "It might astound you the number of crimes that fall through the cracks of the justice system..."

"Will you shut up?" Lauren demanded, shoving the man to the side than focusing her attention on Simon, "You know you need to give me the gun, Simon."

"Why?" the younger man questioned, "So he can get off on a technicality in what? Three months? That's the one thing he's honest about. The justice system sucks."

"Simon," Lauren's soft voice lightly piercing its way through, "I know that you're angry..."

"Of course I am angry," he interjected, his grip on the cool metal tightening, "He knows what he did and he has to pay."

Rotha leaned his handcuffed arms against the metal bar, "You wanna do it, huh? Go head, do it. Shoot me. Pull the trigger, come on. Do it."

Lauren looked from Simon to Rotha, "Simon, look at me," she took a deep breath, "Look at me."

When his dark eyes met her brown ones, "What did he do to you?"

Simon's gazed turned ice-cold before landing on Rotha, "He killed my sister. He killed Elise."

"What?!" Garcia squeaked in surprise.

"Yeah, I did not see that one coming," Emily whispered to JJ.

Both women were quickly silenced by a sharp look, listening as Dave continued on.

Simon's steady hand moved in closer to Rotha, but Lauren turned his attention back to her, "If he did kill your sister..."

"Elise," he reiterated, "Stepped into a warehouse that blew up. He's responsible for it."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific their, sport," Rotha mused, "I've done a lot of things, and your sister's so-called death doesn't even register on my top ten list."

Lauren narrowed her eyes at Rotha, trying to control the anger that rose in her before focusing her attention on the younger man, slowly stepping in between both men. Trying to draw Simon's attention to herself.

"Talk to me, Simon," Lauren calmly stated, keeping her tone even and in control, "Tell me what happened."

"You were chasing after John Quinn," the younger man spat out to Rotha, "He was engaged to my sister."

That threw the female agent, she had known of her partner's former engagement but not the ending to it. Swallowing thickly she had to think on her feet. Turning slightly, her back facing the elevator door she leaned backwards against the buttons.

"Simon," she took a deep breath, "Listen to me, what you're talking about, it's not justice. Elise wouldn't want this for you."

"You have no idea what my sister would have wanted," he shouted, "But she wouldn't want to be dead."

"Wrong thing done for the right reason is still the wrong thing," she whispered, "I may not have known your sister but she wouldn't want you to ruin your life. Not like this, not for him."

"She was going to get married, and start a new life for herself..." Simon exhaled.

"With John Quinn?" the confined man snorted, "Believe me I did you and her a favor."

Lauren's head snapped to him, her eyes narrowing at the man seemingly asking for a death wish, "Will you please shut up?"

The brunette agent internally sighed, pondering how she could keep Simon from ending Rotha's life while trying not to throttle the man herself. Tightening her grip on the prisoner, she took a chance turning slightly to the obviously still grieving younger man.

"Oh, I wouldn't know about that," Rotha dryly commented taking a breath, "Go on, go get your justice for..."

"Elise," Simon seethed, balling his fists, "You killed my sister. Why?"

The pleading look on the young man's face pained the female agent, turning to look at the detained man beside her, she sharply tugged onto his handcuffed hands to get him to respond to the question.

"Your sister walked into the wrong place at the wrong time," he shrugged indifferent of his choice of words, "Besides this happened a million years ago. You should move on with your life."

Before Rotha knew it, he found himself flat on his back nursing a bloody nose, "Ow, what the Hell was that for?"

"Call it a bit of karmic payback," Lauren muttered, quickly wrenching the gun free from the stunned Simon, "And I just saved your life. You're welcome."

The younger man snapping out of his shock, "Please, I have to..."

Lauren, turning her back on her prisoner trapped on the floor, placed a warm hand on Simon's chest, "Trust me when I tell you he will pay for what he's done, but this isn't the way. The only thing you will accomplish is trashing your own future. I doubt Elise would have wanted you to ruin your own future at her expense."

The lengthy man pursed his lips ready to protest again, when the female agent added, "You're only adding another victim to this piece of garbage's list. You." Moving her hand up to his shoulder, she gave Simon a warm squeeze, "What would Elise say?"

Hearing that made Simon pause, tuning out the taunting laugh from Rotha, while Lauren grabbed the weapon then leaned against the elevator button hitting the open switch.

"What the bleeding Hell is going on here?" Quinn demanded, looking from his partner to their bloody nose prisoner before spotting Simon, "Oh, I should have known you'd show up."

Lauren gave a sideways glance to the man beside her, noting that at least his gun was safely tucked in the back of her black slacks, "You know him?"

Rotha wasn't surprised that the woman would cover for Simon, but he was too busy to complain, "A little help here?"

"Bravo, Mr. Rotha, bravo," John clapped, sarcastically replying, "I see you're making friends all over the place."

The dark-haired prisoner rolled his eyes, "Yeah well, kill 'em with kindness has always been my motto."

John gave his partner and Simon one final look, something registered with the man but he address it, "I'm taking him upstairs..."

"What, you're not even going to buy me dinner first?" Rotha quipped as he was removed from the elevator, turning to Lauren and Simon, "Always a pleasure miss..."

"Charmed, I'm sure," she rolled her dark eyes as the pair left.

As the brunette stepped out of the elevator, she slightly turned to Simon extending her hand, "Come on."

The younger man stared at the proffered gesture. He didn't know what it was, but there was something comforting in that simple offer.

"Where are we going?" he asked, slipping his hand into hers.

"To talk," she told him leading him down a corridor towards the balcony, "To have a long talk."

"The end," Rossi said, his eyes trailing to his friends, gauging their reaction. Only to be met with silence. Now that surprised him, "Well? What did you think?"

"That's it?" Morgan asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Dave admitted, "What, was it that bad?"

His eyes going to Emily then Hotch's, "Well?"

"It was..." Hotch paused, swallowing his now cold coffee, "It was good."

"Good?" the older man questioned, "Anything else?"

"Yeah, I've got a question," the blonde analyst interjected, "What happened after that?"

"After?" Rossi pursed his lips, "Oh, you mean between Lauren and Simon?"

"Yes," both JJ and Garcia chimed in unison.

"Well," Dave started, shrugging his shoulders, "That's up to the readers to guess."

As the elder team member slowly stood up, his hands firmly palmed down on the table, he took a quick look around the round table then nodded, "Always a pleasure."

The small group sat there dumbfounded by the odd ending. It wasn't a cliffhanger by any means but it wasn't an ending either. At least not to them.

Dave slightly turned his head as he made his way to the conference room door, "There's a hidden meaning in that story, maybe if you figure it out there could be another one in your future."

With that he was gone. The blonde analyst swiveled around in the chair, "Did anyone get it?"

"Nope," Emily, JJ and Morgan answered.

"Me either," Reid murmured, his eyes trained on the table. He could sense the hidden meaning behind the story, but chose to keep it quiet. For him the story hit too close to home.

With a defeated sigh, Garcia leaned back in her chair, "Rossi better stick to true crime, because he's too confusing as a plain novelist. Really," she snorted, "How was that a story? A heartbreak, several unsubs, an undercover op and a dead ringer lookalike? How believable was that? I mean where was the star cross lovers at least?"

"It's a work of fiction, baby girl" Morgan soothed her, "Not a Twilight flick."

The dark-haired agents both remained quiet at that, sinking in the words. The theme of Rossi's story taking weight on both. For different reasons.

For Emily, it was a matter of watching someone she cared about lose the one thing that mattered to them the most. The person they loved, and though she had yet to find that one person for her, she would never want that for the people she cared about. She had to remind herself that maybe romance wasn't in the cards for her, especially since the one that she wanted was with someone else.

The team leader on the other hand felt like someone opened up the blinds for him. It all clicked. He, Supervisory Special Agent in Charge, Aaron Hotchner found what had been missing all along. Or rather, someone.

Oh, he knew it back then when they had that one shared dance long ago, but he thought that since she was departing from their team that nothing could ever be made of it. That they would only ever have that one moment.

But that was then, and this was now.

"Well, I better get back to my lair and find ways of making Mon Amie pay dearly," the bubbly blonde's voice popped the duo's bubble.

"Why's that Garcia?" JJ queried as she gathered the rest of the team's discarded lunch.

"He gave me such crap for interrupting him once..." she started.

"Or half a dozen times," Emily teased helping the two women as they made their way to the trash can.

"Oh pooh, who keeps score anyway?" the blonde added.

"You do," the two other female BAU members chimed in unison.

"Any-who, he leaves us with THAT kind of ending?" Garcia seethed, "Uh uh. No one, but no one, does that to Penelope Garcia and gets away with it."

That had the room bemused by the technical analysts ramblings, until Emily felt a light tap on her shoulder. Turning slightly, she pursed her lips when she noticed the hesitant look on his face.

"Hey, are you alright?" she asked gathering the rest of her belongings, "Hotch?"

"I was..." he paused, clearing his throat. A sign that he was nervous, which made Emily curious, "Well, I wanted to know..."

"Is something wrong, Hotch?" she repeated, furrowing her eyebrows, "Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me, right?"

"Eh hem," he stood tall trying to avoid playing with his dark silk tie, "I was wondering if you would care to accompany me to lunch."

Morgan internally smirked hearing that, while Garcia shot her blonde companion an enthusiastic smile. Even Reid held in a small smile at that watching his closest friends awkwardly connect.

"Lunch?" the brunette reiterated, "You want to go to lunch with me?"

"Yeah, I thought that since we work together that we could..." he trailed of, the smile on her face making his heart beat faster, "That we could interact outside of the workplace. After all we are friends, right?"

"Of course we are, Hotch" she insisted, "That's very kind of you."

"Good," he paused, "If you're ready?"

She looked down at her coat, "I just need to grab my purse. I'll meet you by the elevators?"

"I'll be right down," he assured her, giving her a slight glance before retreating from the conference room.

The two blondes watched as the pair made their departure from the room doorway, each wondering how blind the two could be. Garcia felt a nudge coming from the younger woman beside her, who then nodded towards the office of their senior agent.

"Looks like Rossi' has something up his sleeve," JJ whispered, "And I don't think it has anything to do with his attempt at fiction."

"Oh you don't mean..." the technical analyst asked, "Really?"

"Mm hmm," she murmured, "Well let's just hope he has better luck at that then his lame story."

"So, on a scale of one to ten, how pissed are you that he made your character insignificant?" JJ shot her a quick look.

"My what?" the analyst queried while JJ rolled her blue eyes.

From inside the small confines of his office, Dave peered down into the bullpen watching as his one time protégé turned team leader join Emily's side. The older man snickered watching as the always cool and collected Aaron Hotchner sweat bullets helping the brunette into her dark blue jacket.

"Ah attaboy, Aaron," the older man bemused, "I knew you had it in you."

As he took a seat behind his desk, "Glad I went with this story and not the romance novel. That'd been too obvious."

Closing the open file on his computer, Dave Rossi knew it was a cliché to branch out of his genre but he'd do anything for his friends. Even if it made him look like an idiot with side job. But they needed that push and beside, he told himself, it was nice to focus on something other then the horrors of their everyday life and revel in each other's company.

* * *

"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong." Joseph Chilton Pearce

* * *

**THE END **

So what did you all think? Good, bad or just indifferent? I got a bit stuck on the ending but I'm just glad this story is finally finished.

Drop a review down below.


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